Black
by Demonic-Clover
Summary: Should not read unless you have read HP 5....dedicated to the memory of Sirius...


::JadeMoonWing sits in a far away corner in the shadows, wearing long, draping black clothes, holding a single candle in her palm, not flinching as the wax melts over her hand. A few tears roll down her face as she mourns the death of Sirius Black.::  
  
Erin: ::sobs in to the arms of Hermione, who's looking very confused, as Good Charlotte's 'Young and Hopeless' plays::  
  
~*~*  
  
Black  
  
Rain.  
  
Did Sirius like rain?  
  
He never got to ask him.  
  
He did seem like a decent rain-gloom person.  
  
'If I could just ask Sirius one last thing, just one last one, I'd ask him if he liked rain.'  
  
Black sighed, knowing that there were probably many more sensible questions to ask than that. He would just add that one to his mental list.  
  
The man Black was sitting in a large, brown chair, in a room with a large dark wood desk and nothing else. Black was wearing long, black robes, which stretched past his feet and draped the chair's armrest. The window he had moved the chair closer to took up the space of the whole wall, and Black's head was resting against it mournfully as the rain covered the outside glass like a veil.  
  
A black veil.  
  
Like the one he fell in to....  
  
The one he couldn't pull him back from.....  
  
Why.....didn't he just rip open it once, to see....if he really was there.....?  
  
He clenched his eyes shut.  
  
"Uh...Um, Sir? Black, sir?"  
  
Black's iced-over eyes locked on to the man. "Yes?"  
  
"I.....I have here the information you requested...Of.....of-"  
  
"Please, can you tell me...."  
  
He trailed off for a minute, and the stuttering man quivered on the spot in tension, before deciding to speak up. "Erm, er, B-B-B-Black-"  
  
Black gave a small jump, startled, then coughed. "Yes, please.....What is the conditions of Ronald Weasly?"  
  
"Er......" The stuttering man rubbed his balding head for a moment, then started quickly shifting through papers. "Uh, W-Weasly, Ronald--- Er, he worked for a while at the Ministry of Magic, in the-"  
  
"I don't really give a damn about his career, family life, or how many cats he owns," snapped Black suddenly. "I only asked about his current condition."  
  
"Uh, um, eh, er, The wizard Ronald Weasly unfortunately passed away a year ago while trying to defend his home from Death Eaters, his wife and children also killed in the attack," the squat man said hurriedly, trying his best not to upset Black anymore than he already was.  
  
"What is the condition of Hermione Granger?"  
  
"Well, she was no longer known as Hermione Granger.....but, but by.....Hermione Weasly," He said slowly.  
  
"Ginny, Fred, George Weasly? Arthur and Molly Weasly?" quizzed Black.  
  
"D-During the assault on Diagon Alley last year, Fred and George Weasly were killed. And." the man shuffled through more papers, "The remaining Weasly's were driven to insanity by Death Eaters, and now reside at St. Mungo's." The man quivered a bit more, looking like he wanted to race out of the room as soon as possible.  
  
"I......I think that is all," said Black slowly. The man nodded and rushed a bit on his way out. Black placed his head back against the window.  
  
The squat man cast a nervous glance back at the room as he left, wondering why Sir Black wanted such information. Of course, there were many things unknown about their leader.  
  
Sir Black had once been known as the famous Harry Potter, yes, but now had completely left behind any shred of that life. He was now known as Black, only Black. Or Sir Black, to his followers.  
  
He started collecting wizards and witches a while ago, nearly seven years ago, when Sir Black had just turned sixteen. He gathered them and promised them power, and promised them wealth, promised a way to free from all pain. He was now much like the feared Dark Lord himself, although he worked more underground. He gave the followers pretty much what he had promised; Many raids had made them wealthy, while he gifted true followers with items of great use or strength, and they had been freed from all pain, too; The majority of his army had no emotion whatsoever.  
  
He was merely a secretary, but he did paid, and by gracious amounts. He had no problem working for him; He was just a tad scared.  
  
Black still stared longingly out the window, rain still coming down in sheets, eyes still emotionless and cold.  
  
Ron's gone......  
  
Stupid Ron.......  
  
I wonder how he did in Quidditch......  
  
Hermione's gone.....  
  
Freakishly perfect Hermione.......  
  
I wonder what kind of grades she got in her sixth year......  
  
I wonder how those two got together......  
  
Ha.....haa......  
  
Ginny shouldn't have been put through that sort of torture.....  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Weasly didn't deserve it at all......  
  
It must have been a nasty attack, to stop Fred and George.....  
  
They probably used every trick they had to stop them.....  
  
Stupid Ron.....  
  
How dare he die.....  
  
No matter what, no matter what.....  
  
He and Hermione were always okay.......  
  
I could've......  
  
Black stopped his thoughts right there. He hadn't bothered calling on the elder brother's of the family, he didn't know Bill and Charlie enough to stir up any pain like that. And Percy was currently his sworn enemy.  
  
He reviewed why he had tried to find them in the first place. It was a recent conversation with Lupin.....He had told him to go back, to leave this behind, before the Ministry caught up with him. He said that he should just go back, back to Harry.....Help Dumbledore stop Voldemort, and then all would be okay.....  
  
"And how," Black thought to himself, reviewing what he said to Lupin, "could I ever, ever go back to Harry at this time?"  
  
Black sighed, realizing he was truly, without a doubt, he was a different person. He had truly been reborn on his sixteenth birthday as Black.  
  
He turned his head and looked at the wall, staring at the only thing decorating the bare room.  
  
It was a old, torn, aged piece of parchment, hanging in a picture frame, appearing empty. Black slowly let his mind take over, imagining Wormtail, Moony, Padfoot, and Prongs, all sneaking off to the kitchens, huddling under the invisibility cloak, plotting their next attack on Snape....  
  
~*~*  
  
Black walked through the graves quietly. It was rather late in the evening, but he knew that if the sky weren't covered in rain clouds the sun would be out. He had apparated to the entrance of the graveyard, but decided it would be better to walk to the graves he wanted to see.  
  
He walked until he was at the far end, where the graves were less bunched up. He smiled sadly as he found the ones he was looking for.  
  
It was Ron's and Hermione's graves, two smaller ones just next to them. He looked over a little ways away and saw two graves, slightly closer together than the others, and connected by a large W.  
  
Fred and George must have had a lot of fans, because even though they had been dead for a year, small wrappings of candy and jokes they had sold were still left by their graves, along with some sunflowers someone had laid there, and a box of chocolate frogs. Black smiled slightly, remembering their impressing depart from Hogwarts. Who would've known that was his last year there, too.  
  
He rolled up the Marauder's Map and tied it with a red-orange ribbon, placing it between the graves. He then lifted his head and looked around.  
  
There was no grave for Sirius. No one believed he was good, so who would build it? He walked a little ways away from all the others, the rain still soaking through the cloak. When he thought he was far enough away, he pointed his wand at the ground.  
  
Solid gray rocks started rising up, growing quickly and forming together and pulling apart, until Black let his wand drop to his side. The rocks had formed a large dog.  
  
Black pulled from his robes a thin stick of wood, which he placed in the dog's mouth, wedging it in the fangs. On the plank it read SIRIUS BLACK- SNUFFLES-PADFOOT.  
  
Walking away, he returned to Ron and Hermione's graves. He looked at their children's. The names on them indicated they were both girls. Black had a mental image of two little girls, both with bushy manes of red hair and blue-gray eyes, very clever little children and riding on toy broomsticks in front of a large, creaky house.  
  
"Hello, children," he said to no one, looking far to his left, "I'm your uncle Harry."  
  
He then walked a couple steps to Ron and Hermione. He smiled at Hermione's grave, smiled at Ron's and kicked it lightly with his toe, then walked out of the graveyard.  
  
~*~*  
  
He was running quite fast out of the office, clutching the sword of Gryffindor tightly in his hand, his broom in the other, thinking that getting in had been quite successful. He jumped down the steps of Dumbledore's office, the door springing open for him as he ran out past the gargoyles and through the hallways. He was almost to his destination when he heard running footsteps behind him.  
  
Black ran on, ignoring them, until he got to the tower he was looking for. It was, in fact, the same tower where he had given Charlie Norbert so many years ago.  
  
He stopped there and spun around, facing Dumbledore, Snape, McGonagall and a couple teachers he didn't know. They all had their wands pointed at him, and he raised his wand to them, too.  
  
"Harry," said Dumbledore, shaking a bit. "Harry...... calm down, Harry, don't do this.....Come here, Harry, and come back....."  
  
"He is filth," sneered Snape, "And always will be, that attention-hogging idiot....He needs to be send to Azkaban, and I can't wait....."  
  
"Harry," said Dumbledore again, and Black let his wand arm drop to his side, standing up and relaxing as though to surrender.  
  
"When Sirius Black died," said Black chokingly, rain pounding harder around them; "It was not part of me that died, too."  
  
He suddenly raised his wand and brought it down swiftly to attack. "It was all of this blasted Harry Potter that died along with him!" A blinding flash and darts of red magic burst from his wand and attacked the Professors, and Black jumped on his Firebolt and flew off. He dodged some attacks from them, but eventually he was so high up, the attacks stopped, and he zoomed almost completely straight in to the air.  
  
When he thought he was high enough, he raised the sword of Godric Gryffindor in his hand, watching it gleam for a moment in the sun, before plunging it in to his chest.  
  
Falling, fleeting thoughts filled his mind.  
  
Sirius.....  
  
I'm sorry.....  
  
You died, it was my entire fault, and you would've loved to live......  
  
Still, you weren't afraid of death.....  
  
I'm sorry I didn't stay and protect everyone.....  
  
I'm sorry, Ron, Hermione....  
  
Sorry Dumbledore........  
  
Voldemort, screw the prophecy....  
  
Maybe, in another time, dimension, I could've done something different then, and you would've lived, and I could stay with you......  
  
Maybe now, I can be reborn again as that Harry Potter........  
  
As Black fell past the tower, he heard a stunned, pained gasp from Dumbledore. "Harry."  
  
"Hey, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said with his last breath. His vision was blurring, his hair in his eyes, his glasses falling off long ago. It was starting to hurt to breath, and his body felt numb. He didn't care if Dumbledore could hear him right now or not "Do you think....Did Sirius ever mention....if he liked rain?" 


End file.
